


us against the world

by pendragonfics



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (could be read as neutral; female or male), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Crushes, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff without Plot, Gender unspecified reader, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: Apparently, the whole school knew about the massive crush Jon Snow had on you before you did. The kicker? He's your best friend.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Reader, Jon Snow/You
Kudos: 5





	us against the world

**Author's Note:**

> this was a tumblr request!

It was around mid-afternoon when you realised that you were in love with your best friend. There had never been any reason to not call it friendship. He and you would be inseparable. If he got detention, so did you. When you watched every lacrosse practice, he never missed a violin recital of yours. He considered your Mom his own, and you practically lived at his house, play-fought his siblings, and slept on their couch more than your own bed. 

So when this morning, when Jon didn’t show for homeroom? It took much longer than the initial half an hour roll call and daily announcements for the realisation to sink in. Mr Targaryen — while somewhat crazy for his age — didn’t mind your lack of attention. He droned on about the new parking rules and something about a charity event.

But your thoughts were only on Jon.

He had never been absent before. The only sick day he’d ever had was that winter when everyone in his house got chickenpox. Or the time he drank the expired milk instead of Samwell to stand up to the bullies (it hadn’t worked. Food poisoning isn’t a remedy to schoolyard oppressors). So when his name —  _ Snow _ ,  _ Jon  _ — had come and gone without remark, it weighed heavy on your mind. 

Across the classroom, you watched as Joffrey flirted clumsily toward Missandei, who seemed more interested in carving her initials into her desk. It was then, looking at the ill-fated match made in first-period math, your mind flickered back to Jon. 

And how every time he showed off, you smiled. How every time you passed a note, he pocketed it. How if you weren’t in a class together, the whole ordeal of it all would stretch on too long, and you’d feel so much better when you next laid eyes on each other. It was as if he was the question, and you were the answer, or you were the chooser, and he was the choice. As no matter what, he came to the forefront of your mind. Whether it was in school or out, at your group’s weekly  _ Dungeons and Dragons _ night or the ice skating pond near the grocers, no place was complete without Jon.

The bell released you all, and Mr Targaryen resigned himself to his desk, and you all piled out and into the halls. Your usual quips and remarks are held in your mouth, as there is no partner in crime to utter them to. Until, of course, someone knocks into you; sending you and your books across the way.

Theon Greyjoy was no joy at all. The guy could take the happiness out of anything, and he prided himself on it in a sick way that made anyone wonder if he got off on it. A sneer crossed his face as he stared down at you.

“Well?” He prompted lazily. “Where’s your goth to protect you?”

“Go away, Theon.”

“Oh, are you sad? What’re you gonna do? Cry?” He taunted.

You gathered your things quietly, ignoring him despite his proximity. However, just because he was out of sight, it didn’t mean that he was no longer in existence. Books in hand and still crouching, you feel his off-brand sneaker connect with your ribs. 

“Oi! Fuck off, you snake,” a familiar voice intoned. Looking up, Arya stood above you, her fists balled, and teeth bared. “Or I’ll smack you over my skateboard like the creep you are.” 

“Ooh," he sneered, "you’ll like that, wouldn’t you.”

You stood up at the same time her punch landed. Theon recoiled; his nose was at an odd angle. “What are you gonna do, cry?” She parroted back. Arya puffed her chest out, stepping toward him. Intimidated, Theon grasped at his nose and ran off. 

“He’s gonna tattle.” You groaned. Though your books were in hand, you cradled your side.  _ That  _ was gonna leave a mark. “You shouldn’t have done that, Ari…” 

“Well, snitches get stitches,” she announced. Starting to walk down the hall, she navigated expertly through the swathes of students as a creature in their element would. “I’m sure you’d do the same for me if Mrs Mordane accused me of cheating in Spanish, wouldn’t you?” 

“You’re right…” you trailed off. Blinking, you snapped back to focus and looked to her. “Hey, Arya? Is Jon okay?” 

She frowned, stopping mid-step. “You mean in the head? Or in the looks department?” Arya winced. “Y’know, the jury’s still out on both.” 

“No, I mean like, is he sick?” You ask, hurriedly. Some part of you feels ashamed for asking so pointedly. Another feels righteous, wanting answers. “I mean, he seemed fine when we talked on the phone yesterday…it’s just, Jon never misses homeroom.” 

“Maybe…he poked his eye out with his guyliner and Rob had to drive him to the ER?” Arya shrugged, entering the classroom behind her. “See ya!”

* * *

By the time fourth-period art rolled around, you felt somewhat disparaged. Apart from the fact that your phone battery was dead from checking your last texts so often, there was no word from  _ anyone _ in your social circle about Jon. Even Samwell was as worried as you were, and if that meant anything, your worries were valid. But as with everything in art class, the bad energy was left at the door, and inside, you began to sketch out the line art on your freshly primed canvas.

“Don’t look now, but I’m pretty sure ____________’s gonna paint their boyfriend.” 

You looked to the voice. Really, of all people? It was none other than Renly Baratheon. You had tried to befriend him in middle school, but it didn't work out. When became King of the rumour mill, it was hard to find peace in his company. He sat beside his friends, bedazzled as always, with his  _ holier than thou  _ expression that made you so very mad.

You looked to the sketch on your canvas. An oval face, chin-length hair. Morose expression, bushy eyebrows, and baggy clothes.  _ Jon _ . But by the time you looked up, ready to defend yourself, you noted that Cersi had swooped in to bully him. Such luck couldn’t be bottled, but then again…you hadn’t denied the statement. 

At the next table, Margaery laughed softly. You noticed that her project, a clay vase, looked somewhat like something the teacher would discourage the boys from crafting. 

“What’s so funny?” You asked, innocently. 

“Oh…” she moulded at the mound she had pinched into existence, “it’s almost like you’re the last to know.” 

“Look, I’ve already seen that video Daenerys shared.”

“Oh God no —,” she gave a quasi-yelp, too low for the teacher to hear over the general hubbub, “I’m not talking about  _ that _ scandal.” She shook her head, “See, ____________, I’ll be kind about it, since nobody else will be. It’s clear as day that you’re into that emo Jon Snow.” 

“He’s my  _ friend _ .” You bit back. Quietly, you added, “He’s punk, not emo.” 

“Yeah?” She cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow in amusement. “Well if we’re telling lies, then I’m a virgin.” 

Exasperated, you focus back on your desk. But before you is your canvas, the sketch of Jon’s face, and it makes your face heat beneath the skin with a cocktail of embarrassment and shame. 

Under your breath, you ask, barely looking to Margaery, “…does  _ everyone _ know?” 

“Oh, just about everyone…except him. If I know anything about boys — and trust me, I do —  _ that  _ boy likes you.” 

* * *

You had never been so glad to get off the bus, but then again, no other days in your life had been so strife-filled as this one. You follow the Stark siblings home. It’s the same as usual. Sansa pushes Bran’s chair, and Arya as she kicks rocks at cars. You’re almost past their front yard when you realise they’ve stopped walking, and you nearly collide with Sansa’s back. 

“What is it?” You ask. “What’s —”

It’s then you see. Spelt out on the front lawn of your family’s house with white garden rocks is a message. It’s hard to decipher since it's so big, but you frown, concentrating on it.  _ WILL YOU GO TO… _

You furrow your brow, looking to the Stark siblings. Bran shrugs. But the only answer you receive, upon walking closer to the misspelled word (when had it ever been spelled DARNCE??), you see him leaning against the inside of your parents’ front doorframe. He’s wearing a nicer black tee than usual, and his jeans have fewer holes, but he still looks as cool as ever. In Jon’s hands, there’s a single flower — that you suspect was picked from across the road’s garden — and he holds it out to you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, eyes wide. “I — Jon, what are you —?” 

He pushes off the door, walking toward you down the path. He kicks one of the rocks from the misspelled word on accident, the stone tottering toward the mailbox. “____________, I’ve known you since we were both in diapers and watched Rugrats reruns. We’ve been good friends for years and years and it’s taken me so long to realise it but I know what it is I am to you. You’re the best part of any day. Hands down. It’s been years, but you’re more than a friend to me.” 

“Stop being so corny,” you whine. 

“____________, I like you more than anyone or anything. More than —”

You close the distance between the pair of you. In the motion, you knock the flower from his grasp, nearly bowl the boy over, but finally, after too many years and too many confusing thoughts and feelings, you do it.

“Gross,” Bran mutters, near the gate. 

Jon breaks from the kiss. “I — you like me back?” He looks bewildered. 

You nod, and peck him on the cheek before picking the lost flower up, and continuing on toward the front door. “Of course I do, dummy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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